I raise my brow, loving how he thinks I know this shit. “Do I seem the motherly type to you, or like I have a record of whatever it is WebMD suggests pregnant women follow? Or the guidelines for flights?”
“Alrighty then. We’ll drive to Mexico City.”
“How far away is it?” I question.
“Over nine hours, but we can stop mid-way this evening and grab a hotel. It’ll allow you to get a proper night of sleep and to relax a little.” Eduardo says.
“Okay,” I nod my head, agreeing to this plan.
“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” Dante asks, looking at me with concern.
I shrug, “Yesterday.”
“We’re going to grab you some food before we leave La Pesca, some water as well. I can only imagine how malnourished you are.”
“Thank you.”
“Belleza, there is no need for thanks here. We’re simply glad we got to you in enough time.” Dante calls me a beauty again. I’ve always known Latino men are much more passionate, but Eduardo never struck me as a man of passion. He was a man who enjoyed toying with my flirtatiousness at first . . . while his cousin is already buttering me up.
Maybe he’s one of those sickos who gets turned on by the baby bump. It doesn’t even matter in the first place. The only thing I plan on doing for a while is recuperating from surviving hell. Maybe after that I might pick at Eduardo for a bit. Dante isn’t my type. He reminds me too much of Widow. The type of man who knows they’re gorgeous enough to get whatever they want.
“Let’s get going,” Eduardo states, shutting my door for me. He walks around to the alternate side of the SUV and takes the seat beside me, while Dante takes the passenger side.
I don’t know why . . . but I feel like this could all be a dream. I just hope it isn’t.
Chapter Seven
The darkness in a woman is such that, stripped of our sight, we must feel our way through it— we crawl, we enter her circles of Hell until we sympathize with her sorrow, until we learn from her rage.
~ Segovia Amil
Amara
I naturally assumed Eduardo would grab a crappy hotel close to the interstate. Never did I think he’d rent out the best of the best, and yet he did. We’re in a suite located on the top floor. Eduardo told me he rented out the entire floor and told the staff we didn’t want to be disturbed. I imagine they must’ve assumed some sort of creepy orgy was going on, but I do appreciate how he respects the privacy I want.
Eduardo’s been surprising me at every turn. He left me alone for a while to rest, but he was in the living area while I was in the bedroom. It’s mid-morning now of the following day and he’s in no rush to make me leave. I felt okay enough to take a relaxing bubble bath this morning, so I did. I soaked in the warm water, allowing the suds to flow over my body. The mere feeling of cloth washing away the caked-on dirt was pure heaven. That and my clean hair.
Eduardo had sent out his driver to fetch me some clothes at some point last night, because when I came into the bedroom, they were sitting out on my bed for me. It’s a long, flowy beaming yellow dress. A pair of sandals was beside it. Simple, but I’d take it. Hell, I needed it.
Coming here . . . doing something as normal as being in the same car was a shock to my system. I might never say this to anyone else, but I thought I was going to die at Lucien’s hands. When I stepped foot in this hotel last night everything finally clicked. It was the moment I realized this wasn’t a dream and my nightmare was almost over.
“I’ve never known you to be a quiet one,” Eduardo says.
I turn my neck to the right and look at him, noticing how his eyes are pinned on me. It’s not in a sexual manner, but it never has been with him. Even amongst our first interactions . . . he seemed more calculating than anything. “A lot has happened since the last time we’ve seen each other.”
“You’re very right about that.” He smugly comments, staring at my stomach.
I’m sure he’s thinking so many different things right now. For a moment I think about keeping quiet and not saying a thing, but I’ve never been one who enjoys being hounded for answers. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, that’s why I don’t want you calling Damon.”
“I’m sorry?”
“About the baby. I don’t know if I want to keep it or not, and if I make the decision to find a loving mother for it . . . I don’t want judgment from my brothers, or my sister. She’d be the one to hold our mother’s family values over my head, say how it’s wrong to give this baby up. She’d say I’m being selfish.”
“It isn’t selfish to want to do what’s best for this child, Amara.”
“Yeah, well . . . my family wouldn’t think of it the way you and I do.” I mutter, feeling tears well behind my eyes. I go over to the window and look out onto the parking lot below us.
For minutes we stay silent. Eduardo probably has his eyes glued to me like he did a few minutes prior, while I look across the landscape at anything I can land my eyes on. From something as miniscule to the cyan blue painted beetle, to the amount of cars at the restaurant across the street.
“It doesn’t matter what your family thinks. You’re a smart woman. You know it doesn’t matter.” Eduardo says from out of the blue.
I turn back to
